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Forum:Worn Trail
The year is 2279, the great Longhorn and Brahmin Barons of Texas and Mexico have finally come head to head for the second time over the sale of cattle in the Texan wasteland, most notably; the Corpse Coast. The Texan cattlemen have rallied around the leadership of the Falfurrias Cattlemen's Association and the charismatic and ruthless; Nathaniel Rooker. Down South the Mexican Longhorn barons rally around the Texican cattle baron Cal Jackson and lesser men like Zachary Hale in the second fight for control of the cross border cattle trade. 'Part 1' TEAM MEXICO Charlie Jenson sat in the small saloon on the outskirts of Matamoros. The small cattle town was alive with activity as dozens of cattlemen from both Mexico and Texas roamed the streets buying drinks, indulging itches that need scratching and otherwise enjoying the debauchery that is border towns. Outside there came the clodding of hooves on dry sand and Earth, and bursting in were three men. Charlie immediately recognized them as agents of the Jackson Family, the most powerful cattle ranching family in all of Tamaulipas. The men wore the distinctive white bandanas of the Jackson Family around their necks, and each wore a Colt Peacemaker on their hips and some long arm on their back. The leader of the group removed the dust covered bandana from his face, the man was Ronald "Ronny" Turnball, the Jackson Family Foremen. "Listen up! I've come here to gather a group of able bodied men to help escort of a herd of Longhorns across the Bravo, the pays good boys and the rewards up in Stockton are even better" He added with a grin, leering over at a group of the local working girls, "Probably a good deal cleaner than these skanks, so what dya' say? Who heres got the balls to test those Texan's tough talk?" Few men stood as Ronald continued to jaw. Charlie scanned the room as a few of the rougher looking cowpokes rose from their bar stools and walked over to sign on with the cattle drive. Now ordinarily, Charlie wouldn't be too inclined to partake in such risky behavior, he had had his fill of dangers when he was out hunting big game outside of town and his boss Zachary Hale wasn't exactly the type to allow unexcused absences. However, half a bottle of Sugar whiskey from out east had given him courage, and he rose to join the procession of cattlemen signing on with Turnball and his men. Thus started Charlie's entrance into the Second Brahmin Rancher-Cattlemen War. TEAM TEXAS The town hall was quiet as the various Brahmin Barons and ranchers grew quiet as their leader stepped into the hall. Nathaniel Rooker, the tall, slim and handsome cattle baron scanned the room. The room was filled with men of every type and description, from around Falfurrias came the more refined ranchers, dressed in dress clothes for the occasion, sporting polished revolvers and repeaters they were accompanied by small groups of mercenaries hired from the prestigious gangs of the Corpse Coast or further North from the Permian Basin. Alongside these refined ranchers stood the true bosses of the Texan cattle trade, the Brahmin Barons, these men, like their rancher counterparts were well dressed but most were unarmed and few had mercenaries with them. Most of their hired guns were off in camps that dotted the area surrounding Falfurrias as they prepared to ride against the Mexican herds and drovers. Then there were the out of towners, and the Free Rangers, these men were decidedly more rough and tumble then their town counterparts, they lacked the formal attire and many were still covered in dust from their ride into town. Most sported some sort of weaponry on their person and some even had fresh scars from brushes with the local tribals. "Alright listen up folks" Nathaniel called, "We got ourselves a war on our hands, now those spic bastards have refused to leave us good folks in peace and now not only are they here for our market, but for our land as well! Now when those bastards come across that river we're gonna hit 'em so hard they're gonna wish they had kept their asses South of the border!" To this a cheer echoed through the room. "Now all ya'll get ready to saddle up, we're gonna head them off at Thompson's Crossing, Fort Brown and at Hidalgo. Kill all they send and those who survive you lynch 'em facing South! We're gonna show them what happens when you mess with Texans!" At that moment he spied the posterior of one of the young latinas handing out shots of Bourbon to the gathered ranchers, he was gonna break him off some of that before he rode off tomorrow. TEAM TEXAS "A very nice speech," said Marion Piper nonchalantly as he stood up, cheered, and exited the saloon. Should talk to rest of the Company before we head out. As he walked out, Marion watched the honorable Nathaniel Rooker ogle the backside of a wench and smirked. He may have hired me, but that doesn't mean I cant laugh at the man. Marion walked out to meet the rest of Carnivore Company, who were waiting outside. Zachary, his lieutenant, spoke up. "So where are the Barons going to send us?" Marion shook his head. "Somewhere around the Rio Grande. We're following Rooker from here. Get ready to move out." As the Company began to gather up their gear, Marion took Zachary aside so he could speak to him. "If it's possible, I'd like you to go buy a map of the region. Neither you or I know much about Mexico, so I don't want to be going in blind." Zachary, in a coy tone, responded. "You'll have to provide the caps, Marion." Carnivore Company's commander punched his lieutenant in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. "No back talk, Zachary. This is a big job, and I'm not gonna blow it because you were too picky with your caps. Now get me a map!" Zachary nodded and limped off. Marion returned to the saloon to speak with Rooker and determine their destination. TEAM MEXICO Jenaro sat in the dusty tent of an old pisspot saloon drinking hot beer out of a dirty glass. The piss yellow gruel tasted like a hobo's ass, but it got the job done. If he cared to have a good time there were some degenerates behind him well into a game of poker. What little pesos he'd have would make a fine addition to their game, but he wasn't in a fun mood. The generalissimo had bested him again and again, it was getting hard to get any momentum going. His men were getting ground up against the general's latest raids. The last ambush was as flat and disappointing as the beer he was drinking, he was low on cash and men. That was the polite way of framing it, he maybe had a couple hands that could be counted on. Those wouldn't amount to much in a straight up fight, but scrappy survivors were always in demand. There was a commotion outside from the local cattle barons, a couple big Mexican families that wanted the field hands to bleed for them. Some shit never changes, those aristocrats had been making them dance to that tired tune for centuries. Still if Texas was about to get ripped open there was potential profit in the chaos. The Corpse Coast was rich in with loot and paramilitaries that made the generalissimo look like a scout troop. If they were all distracted, he could score big. Of course, this was a line of reasoning he had been working on for a while now. The entire reason he was here was to take the fight to Texas. He despised the barons, but at least they weren't gringos, they weren't much better, but they were Mexicans. He wasn't about to die for them, but he'd kill for their pesos. Finishing the last of the stale goat's piss they called alcohol Jenaro pulled himself from the wooden bar and motioned for his crew. Together the handful of them stumbled out into the daylight, blinded by the sun. Jenaro had a rusty lever action slung over his shoulder, it had known better days, but the gun would still shoot true. The four men with him were armed with six shooters, but they knew to grab rifles from the others as they dropped. Some of them were already scoping out likely casualties worth picking over. His band of red hooded banditos weren't much to look at but they knew how to fight in this terrain. If Texas made the first move he would butcher them as they tried crossing the hills. Well placed snipers could take out many times their own number and slink away quietly. That was how he had fought the general, and compared to him, those fresh eyed gringos would go down like a house of cards. "You mean you'll pay us to kill gringos?," Jenaro said to the loudmouth gathering the volunteers. "And here I was killing them for free all these years." That comment seemed to cause some laughter from the crowd, or at least his own men. Jenaro thought it was funny at any rate. TEAM TEXAS Nathan woke up in a haze, his vision fuzzy as he heard powerful shouts. It had been a long ride into town with the Brahmin, and he had dozed off thanks to a couple trusty shots of whiskey. He grasped the grip of his revolver, sensing that it might be time to get heated, but though best when he laid eyes on the tall Baron. He stumbled up, straightening out his duster and reoriented his Repeater, and slid over to one of his fellow compadres that worked for the same Baron, a tubby one as he recalled. He hiccupped, before grasping a hold of his co-Rancher's shoulder, stammering to make out a phrase as he whipped his eyes, "W-what's that fella over there yammering about, Jim...?" His fellow Rancher Jim chuckled, clasping Nathan's shoulder tightly, "Nate, ya gotta stop takin' them shots buddy. You and alcohol just don't mix...." Jim paused, a wide grin on his face "And buddy, we're about to be killin' us some spics at Thompson's Crossing." Nathan picked up his interest. He had heard rumors that the Cattlemen were heading over the border for Texan territory, but he'd never thought they'd be stupid enough to try. This was Texan land, and he very much wasn't going to give up a hint of it to some men who decided to tread the very ground of his forefathers. He straightened up, brushing off his duster, and began heading for the door, off to saddle up and prepare supplies. If Cattlemen wanted to meet their maker, Nathan was happy to oblige. TEAM MEXICO When it came to sketchy border towns, Thompson's Crossing was one of the worst. What had once been a small village of Mirelurk trappers had over the years transformed into a seedy border town that meandered along the shallowest section of the Rio Grande River. What made the town such a happening place along the border was the shallow section of the river that allowed everyone and anyone to drive their cattle across the Rio Grande without fear of having anything swept down the river by the current. Here was the location of Zachary Hale's latest cattle drive up North to the markets in the Permian Basin. Zachary was a hard working man, having been one of the first Mexican Longhorn barons to sail the waters of the Gulf Belt and one of the few cattlemen in Tamaulipas that exported some of his beeves to "foreign" markets in The Big East, and the Klansmen Confederacy. It was through these enterprises and other business ventures that Zachary had made himself one of the top cattlemen in Tamaulipas. As he sat upon the black quarter horse, Ranger was his name, Zachary scanned the opposite side of the river. The Texans were out there, he knew that much was fact, but the question was where they were. Returning his gaze to the herd of Longhorns splashing their way through the three feet water and the ranch hands watching their movements. Further ahead of the herd was the cadre of hired guns he had picked up in Colonia Tamaulipas to help escort his cattle across Texas. Suddenly from up ahead of the heard there came the quick chatter of automatic weapons fire. Immediatetly his hand shot down to his revolver, a Ruger Bearcat, and snatched the weapon from its holster. He kicked Ranger into a gallop and rode to the front of the herd, on the ground in a pool of crimson blood he found one of his hired guns, his compatriots were crouched behind cover, busily scanning the surrounding hills. As he sat on his horse Zachary heaved a sigh. "Oh get up you damned buffoons, the bastard took off" He shouted, "Now get that poor bastard cleaned up and get back to what I'm paying you for!" With that the mercenaries scampered to their work and Zachary rode back to oversee his herd. TEAM TEXAS The sun beat down on Carnivore Company as they walked down the road to Thompson's Crossing and war. Marion Piper was at the front of the column and looked behind him. The company was a rather motley assortment of mercenaries, but was, to Marion's pride, one of the cheapest and most efficient groups during their time in the Corpse Coast. The individuals in the company and their reputations was a problem but didn't bother him. Our reputation is good business. It's why Rooker hired us after all. He remembered when the day when the men from the Cattlemen's Association approached him in the company's camp outside of Calallen. Traders from farther west were common in the Corpse Coast, but these came bearing gifts. Gifts of beef and caps, enough to convince all of us fools to come down here. Right now, Carnivore Company was trekking on foot behind the rest of the Cattlemen's Association forces, as they did not know the terrain. Marion whipped out his map to try to figure out where they where. Still no idea. Like he said, Marion and the rest of the Company was unfamiliar with the territory, so they were following the people who did. Right then, Jebediah Micajah, the company's resident energy weapon specialist/fetishist walked up beside him. Smelled him before I saw him. At least he's loyal. "Ta road goes on and on, Pipa. How far we from ta battle?" Marion laughed at that. "Not long Jeb. I wouldn't want to keep you from playing with your toys." At that, the swamper made a wide mouthed grin. Marion was greeted by the site of rotting teeth. Disgusting. Category:Roleplaying